


Morning Meeting

by ckret2



Series: RadioSnake Discord - Spicy Showdown Week [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Accidents, Bondage, Breaking the Bed, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism, Mild Blood, Mild Painplay, Sexual Humor, Slapstick, basically a 2k word variation on the Sorry I'm Late; I Was Doing Stuff joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: Alastor shows up to a hotel staff meeting a half hour late, scratched up, and disheveled.He's definitelynotlate because he was having wild kinky sex last night.That's his story and he's sticking to it.
Relationships: Alastor/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: RadioSnake Discord - Spicy Showdown Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732291
Comments: 12
Kudos: 173





	Morning Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in a Radiosnake discord that’s having a NSFW event this week called [Spicy Showdown](https://hanekdraws.tumblr.com/post/616864101916983296/were-having-our-first-event-on-the-radiosnake), which includes a prompt each day. Yesterday was Day 4: “Torture/Blood”. I thought that prompt was day 3, so I'm doing 3 and 4 out of order whoops.
> 
> For the bondage bed, in case you have difficulty picturing it: something like [this](http://twilightsecrets.co.uk/), [this](https://www.etsy.com/listing/473716462/2-for-1-matching-bondage-bed-and-night?show_sold_out_detail=1), or [this](https://imgur.com/gallery/Y9jMa7u). And if, by the time you, dear reader, have reached this fic, all of those links are dead... just google image "bondage bed" or "pillory bed."

Charlie checked the door, checked her watch, and sighed. "Okay, Al's not coming," she said. "Since the rest of you actually made it to the meeting on _time_ , I'm not going to force the rest of you to wait for him. So!" She pointed at the whiteboard where she'd written out—in meticulous rainbow order with six different colored markers—" _Increasing Guest Reservations: Brainstorming Session!_ "

On the other side of the rickety dining-table-turned-meeting-room-table, Angel raised a hand. "Yeah, hi, this sounds like an employee meeting. I'm a guest. How come I got invited?"

"You're our focus group!" Charlie said.

Angel considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"Anyway, what _else_ do you have planned at eight in the morning on a Sunday?" Vaggie asked.

"Sleep?"

Husk, head resting on his crossed arms, grunted in agreement.

"It's actually eight-thirty," Charlie said, trying not to look at the chair that had been left empty for Alastor.

Vaggie grimaced.

"Coulda been finished and back in bed by now," Husk grumbled. "Let's get this over w—"

The door slammed open, making everyone start. Husk bolted upright; Niffty fell out of her chair.

"Good morning!" Alastor hurried into the room, his coat slung over one arm, beaming like he wasn't a half hour late or sporting a scuffed-up black eye. "So sorry I'm late!"

Vaggie, who was sitting with her back to the door and had only seen Alastor sweep past from the side and consequently hadn't noticed the state of his face, asked, "Where _were_ you?"

"Oh!" He waved off her question as he sat. "I was a bit busy this morning, that's all. Prior commitment ran long."

"You were _busy?_ " Vaggie repeated in disbelief.

###

In the center of the bedroom was a pile of broken wooden beams. Half buried beneath them was a sagging mattress, forced to curve into a rough bowl shape by the splintered timber beneath it. On the mattress, cocooned in the center of the bowl and roofed in by the broken beams on top, tangled up naked around each other and in a mess of twisted-up bloodstained sheets, were Alastor and Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious stirred, opened one eye to squint through the wooden beams above, and squirmed down to bury his face in Alastor's chest. "Hey."

Alastor's only reaction was a blat of inappropriately loud patriotic-sounding march music, which was his typical wakeup noise; but it died out after a measure or so as he fell back asleep.

Sir Pentious patted him on the head. "Hey. Alastor."

This time Alastor got a few measures into the march, with Sir Pentious regularly poking his ear to keep him awake, before the music trailed off and he mumbled, "Good morning listeners, this is..."

"Shh, you're not broadcasting." Sir Pentious stopped poking and just draped his arm over Alastor's head instead. "Didn't you say you had an early meeting at the hotel?"

"What?" Alastor yawned deeply; the ambient light in the room briefly darkened, then brightened again as he closed his mouth. "Oh. Yes?"

"Did you say it was early?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it early now?"

Alastor cracked open an eye. "Yes." Then shut it.

Then burst upright, flailing, knocking the delicately-balanced roof of broken wooden beams into disarray. "The _hotel!_ "

###

"I was busy," Alastor repeated, smiling inscrutably at Vaggie.

She grimaced, but didn't say anything—particularly now that he'd looked at her fully and she'd noticed the state his face was in.

Before she could comment on it though, Niffty had dragged her chair behind Alastor and stood on it to examine his clothes. "There's blood on the back of your shirt," she said scornfully, "what a mess!"

Vaggie and Charlie both leaned over to attempt to see the back of his shirt. Angel and Husk on the opposite side of the table craned their necks futilely. 

Oblivious to the sudden interest she'd inspired, Niffty said, "I'll need to clean that." She grabbed the back of Alastor's collar as if she planned to rip it straight off his back.

Alastor's eyes widened. He grabbed at his collar from the front before Niffty could pull hard enough to start disturbing buttons. "No, no! That won't be—no. I can get you my laundry later."

"Um," said Charlie, who'd now seen the faint brownish-red stains on the bright red shirt. "Hey, Alastor? Why... why is their blood on the back of your shirt."

Eyes still wide, Alastor turned to look at Charlie. "Ah," he said. "Yes. That."

###

"What in the underworld is _that?_ " Alastor groaned. He'd turn to see for himself, but his head and wrists were currently fastened in the pillory Sir Pentious had added into the footboard of his new, impressively sturdy, wooden canopy bed.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know," Sir Pentious said gleefully.

Alastor shuddered as another line of hellfire dragged down his back. "I _would_ , actually," he said.

"Well! Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

"Oh, _come_ now." Alastor instinctively tried to twist his head around and found it, unsurprisingly, unable to turn more than a few inches. He gave up and stared at the floor. "You know I can't stand that. Being tied up and sliced up is all fun and games, here, but _curiosity_ —that's the _real_ torture. You wouldn't do that to your dear deer, would you?"

Sir Pentious tisked disapprovingly. "Oh, fine. If you're going to whine about it." Sir Pentious pressed his hips into Alastor's ass and lay the length of his body on top of Alastor's back; the pressure against the new wounds on his back stung viciously. "There, see?"

Alastor looked up to see Sir Pentious was dangling a hand over the top of the pillory board. He waved at Alastor with a bright pink leather glove with long, curved, serrated-edged claws tipping each finger.

Alastor swallowed hard enough he could feel his throat pressing harder against the wooden board. " _Oh_ my."

"I got the impression last time that you think my own claws aren't quite sharp enough to meet your needs," Sir Pentious said sweetly. "So I thought I'd rectify the problem. Do you like them?"

"Very, _very_ much."

Alastor felt scales shifting against the back of his thighs and his back as Sir Pentious slithered higher, and then he heard from directly over his head, " _Good_." Sir Pentious's hood draped around either side of Alastor's face as he bent down to kiss the back of his head. "Where _elssse_ do you want me to put them?"

"M—"

Before Alastor could reply, Sir Pentious dragged one of his new claws down Alastor's side, just below his ribs. Alastor immediately cut off with a hiss of static, biting his lip and swallowing back a garbled broadcast recording that came out as muffled voices somewhere low in his chest, twisting in his constraints enough that the friction made his wrists ache. Finally, he managed to croak out, "Thighs."

" _Which ssside?_ "

" _In._ "

"Ooh, you really _are_ a glutton for punishment tonight."

For a moment, Alastor could only tremble in anticipation as he felt Sir Pentious's long body slowly sliding back down his skin; and then, without warning, claws digging into his flesh.

The emergency alarm system warning tone laced Alastor's scream.

###

Alastor said, "I got into a fight."

Charlie winced. "Ooh, that's not gonna look good for the hotel. Did anyone see it?"

Alastor laughed loudly. "I should hope not!" He settled his coat-draped arm down and casually smoothed his coat out over his lap, concealing any further bloodstains that might be trying to seep through his pants.

"Didja win?" Angel asked.

###

"Spread your knees," Sir Pentious said, "I want to try something."

In Alastor's experience, any change in their planned activities that started with "I want to try something" was either going to be 1) mind-melting, or 2) hilarious to laugh about the next day. He eagerly complied and felt Sir Pentious shifting in between his calves. Was Sir Pentious rolling onto his back? "What are you..."

He felt Sir Pentious digging his sharp new claws into both of Alastor's asscheeks, holding him in place as Sir Pentious's tongue lapped up the rivulets of blood running from the tears in his inner thighs. Alastor spasmed, jerking against his restraints, his head accidentally banging into the wood as he did.

Sir Pentious hissed a laugh; Alastor could feel his breath on his genitals. "Are you alright?"

"Spectacular!" Alastor said dizzily.

"Good. I'd _hhhate_ to stop now..."

As Sir Pentious slid his mouth around Alastor's cock, Alastor jerked his hips automatically and crossed his ankles beneath Sir Pentious's neck.

###

"Well," Alastor said to Angel, shrugging, "I got him in a headlock."

"Not bad."

The shrug had drawn Niffty's attention away from Alastor's stained shirt to his coat. "If you're not going to wear it, you should hang it up," she muttered, snatching the coat and scampering toward the door.

"No no, that's quite—!"

Niffty was out the door before Alastor could finish voicing his protest, leaving the arm that he'd had the coat draped over exposed, as well as its arm brace. He froze with an uncomfortable smile fixed on his face as everyone else around the table started yelling at him at once.

Charlie managed to get her voice heard over the rest, shouting, "Are you _okay?!_ "

"Yes!" Alastor replied, matching her volume without quite making it sound like a shout. "Quite fine! Just a minor sprain, it will have healed itself by the end of the day."

"How did somebody get ya good enough to bust up your _arm?_ " Husk demanded. "The _face_ I figured was a lucky sucker punch, but for someone to get _two_ good blows in on you—"

"Face?" Alastor asked.

The yelling paused. Charlie muttered, "Hold on," opened her phone camera to selfie mode, and held it up for Alastor to inspect himself.

He poked his black eye. "Oh!"

"What," Vaggie asked, "in the _world_ did this guy _do_ to you?"

###

The skin of Alastor's wrists and throat was raw and sore from rocking back and forth in his restraints as he thrust into Sir Pentious's mouth. Every time Sir Pentious's roving hands found a fresh patch of skin on his back or thighs that hadn't yet been torn open, Alastor let out another cry of pleasure/pain: static-laced samples of wailing saxophones and shrill violins, recordings of the screams of the damned, electronic bells and bleeps and sirens stripped from warning broadcasts, noises he himself couldn't fully disentangle. He was seeing stars. Little red stars. Red stars with static dancing between them. No, not stars—red sigils?

The lights in the room were either unevenly flickering or unevenly obscured, too much of Alastor's excess energy writhing around the room in vague undirected shadows. He tried to force them to wrap around the supports of the bed to keep them out of trouble, grabbing the posts and the top of the pillory the way Alastor's uselessly clenching and grasping hands couldn't grab on.

When his orgasm finally hit, his entire body went taut and trembling.

So did the vaporous strands of his magic.

The bed's wooden posts splintered under the coils magic. The pillory came loose and Alastor pitched forward, flailing. One hand landed first on the floor, twisting under his weight; followed by his face. There was a faint crunching that he more heard than felt.

"Alastor?!" Sir Pentious cried. "Are you alright?!"

Alastor sat up, shaking his head. His vision was blurry, he'd gotten brain damage—oh, wait. He looked where his face had landed on the ground and the cracked red glass. No brain damage. His monocle had cracked in the impact, that was all.

"Uh," he said. "Well, a little bit banged up, but—"

There was a series of thunderous cracks as the remaining posts supporting the bed collapsed and caved in. With a shriek, Sir Pentious was buried beneath the tumbling canopy.

Stunned, Alastor gaped at the mess of wood and fabric where the bed had just been.

And then—favoring his twisted wrist and suppressing a laugh at the absurdity of it all—crawled back in to rejoin Sir Pentious in the middle.

###

Alastor stared around the table at the faces staring at him, feeling very much like a deer in several sets of headlights. "I," he said, then stopped to figure out where the rest of the sentence was going. "Was hit," he said. "With a wooden post. A thick one."

Angel whistled.

Husk grimaced. "Looks pretty ugly."

"Thank you," Alastor said graciously.

Charlie said, "Do you wanna postpone the meeting and go wash up? Or—or go to a doctor, or...?"

"No no no!" Alastor shook his head firmly. "My little brawl has already delayed you long enough, which is completely unacceptable! I think we should get back to it!" He gestured at Charlie's " _Increasing Guest Reservations: Brainstorming Session!_ " note on the whiteboard. "I'm thinking we should do radio advertisements. Maybe sponsor a soap opera!"

Vaggie's face twisted in confusion. "Since when have they had soap operas on the radio?"

Alastor stared blankly at her. "Since when _haven't_ they?"

"We'll put that down as a maybe," Charlie said quickly, grabbing up a whiteboard marker. "You're _sure_ you're okay for the meeting, Al?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I—"

Niffty barged back into the room and announced, "I found some more blood on your coat so I put in the washing machine—I hope you don't mind, I put it on low tumble and used a mild detergent—and just so you know, I left the lube and the note with your safeword negotiations that I found in your pockets on the shelf next to the fabric softener!"

The room once again focused on Alastor.

Alastor cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, "I think I will go take that shower."

**Author's Note:**

> Original post available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/617595287919345664/morning-meeting). Comments/reblogs there are very welcome (as are comments here)!


End file.
